"It might have been worse," replied Mr. Crosby.
"Yes, but not much. I was on my way over to your place. I got a special-delivery letter for you, but as I didn't have anybody I could send with it, and as you didn't call, I had to keep it until I closed the office up. Here it is," and he drew from his pocket a rather soiled envelope with a blue stamp thereon.
"Must have come a good way," remarked the postmaster. "I couldn't make out where, the marks were so blurred."
"Why, it's Jed's writing!" exclaimed Mr. Crosby.
"Jed? Your son?"
"Yes. He and his brother are in the West looking for gold, but I don't suppose they'll find any."
Mr. Crosby opened the letter and rapidly read it. As he did so the expression on his face changed. The look of care seemed to disappear, and his eyes brightened.
"Looks as if it was good news," observed Mr. Hayson, who was an old acquaintance.
"It is. Read that."
Mr. Hayson rapidly glanced down the page. Some of the news which Jed wrote was unimportant, but this much seemed to stand out in bold relief: